and cellar, our orchard and garden afforded what he wanted; one half of his time Mr. F. B., poor man, lived upon nothing but fruit-pies, or peaches and milk.  Now these things were such as God had given us, myself and wench did the rest; we were not the creators of these victuals, we only cooked them as well and as neat as we could.  The first thing, James, is to know what sort of materials thee hast within thy own self, and then whether thee canst dish them up.—­Well, well, wife, thee art wrong for once; if I was filled with worldly vanity, thy rebuke would be timely, but thee knowest that I have but little of that.  How shall I know what I am capable of till I try?  Hadst thee never employed thyself in thy father’s house to learn and to practise the many branches of house-keeping that thy parents were famous for, thee wouldst have made but a sorry wife for an American farmer; thee never shouldst have been mine.  I married thee not for what thee hadst, but for what thee knewest; doest not thee observe what Mr. F. B. says beside; he tells me, that the art of writing is just like unto every other art of man; that it is acquired by habit, and by perseverance.  That is singularly true, said our minister, he that shall write a letter every day of the week, will on Saturday perceive the sixth flowing from his pen much more readily than the first.  I observed when I first entered into the ministry and began to preach the word, I felt perplexed and dry, my mind was like unto a parched soil, which produced nothing, not even weeds.  By the blessing of heaven, and my perseverance in study, I grew richer in thoughts, phrases, and words; I felt copious, and now I can abundantly preach from any text that occurs to my mind.  So will it be with you, neighbour James; begin therefore without delay; and Mr. F. B.’s letters may be of great service to you:  he will, no doubt, inform you of many things:  correspondence consists in reciprocal letters.  Leave off your diffidence, and I will do my best to help you whenever I have any leisure.  Well then, I am resolved, I said, to follow your counsel; my letters shall not be sent, nor will I receive any, without reading them to you and my wife; women are curious, they love to know their husband’s secrets; it will not be the first thing which I have submitted to your joint opinions.  Whenever you come to dine with us, these shall be the last dish on the table.  Nor will they be the most unpalatable, answered the good man.  Nature hath given you a tolerable share of sense, and that is one of her best gifts let me tell you.  She has given you besides some perspicuity, which qualifies you to distinguish interesting objects; a warmth of imagination which enables you to think with quickness; you often extract useful reflections from objects which presented none to my mind:  you have a tender and a well meaning heart, you love description, and your pencil, assure yourself, is not a bad one for the pencil of a farmer; it seems to be held without any labour; your mind